


Work Sucks

by SpoonySpoonicus



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Being Walked In On, Lingerie, M/M, Metal Gear Solid: Peace Walker, Office Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Under-Desk Blow Jobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-11-07 12:06:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17960186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpoonySpoonicus/pseuds/SpoonySpoonicus
Summary: Being MSF's main (and only) accountant was a thankless job. Kaz worked tirelessly to keep Mother Base up and running, spending many a sleepless night fussing over financial matters without any help or recognition. But Snake, always the natural leader, finds a way to boost morale and express the depth of his gratitude to MSF's second-in-command.





	Work Sucks

Kazuhira Miller liked to say the only thing that separated a PMC from a ramshackle militia was the amount of the paperwork involved. Not that mercenaries needed to file a 1099 or anything, but keeping MSF’s affairs in order required quite a bit of pencil-pushing—there were purchases to make, dossiers to assemble, contracts to sign in triplicate. _All that stands between us and anarchy_ , Kaz often insisted, _is a well-balanced ledger._

Unfortunately, nobody else on Mother Base seemed to give two shits about bookkeeping. As long as they had boots on their feet and guns in their hands, they didn’t care what happened behind the scenes. And so, while everyone else was out drinking and carousing under the moonlight, Kaz was holed up in his office, playing war accountant for the third night in a row.

Judging by the raucous shouts echoing across the platforms, at least the soldiers seemed to be having a good time. Friday night on Mother Base was always one big party. Kaz had tried slashing the liquor budget in an attempt to bring down expenses—much to his own dismay—but the resulting drop in morale nearly sent their whole organization into a nosedive. The business of war was a well-oiled machine, lubricated by blood and booze in equal measure; MSF would go without bullets before it went without whiskey. So the drinks kept flowing, the men had their fun, and Kaz agonized over their finances.

He sat hunkered behind his desk, blinds drawn, fussing over a column of figures that wasn’t adding up properly. Was he missing a transaction somewhere? Kaz pursed his lips and tapped a ballpoint pen on the edge of his desk, intermittently punching numbers into a pocket calculator. His office was cramped and hot, trapping the stagnant tropical air within its narrow confines. This was his personal bunker of facts and figures, completely sheltered from the outside world except for a single pool of light spilling beneath his door.

A knock rang throughout the room: three sharp raps against hollow wood. Kaz knew those knuckles anywhere, whether by sound or by feel.

“Door’s unlocked,” Kaz called out. “You can come on in.”

The knob turned before Kaz had even finished talking, his sigh concealed by the sound of whining hinges. Snake stood at the threshold, cheeks flushed pink.

“Kaz, where have you been? I was waiting for you.” Snake glared at Kaz in a caricature of anger, brow furrowed with exaggerated intensity, but a smile played at the corners of his mouth.

“I already told you, I have to get some work done tonight. Our books won’t balance themselves.”

“Aw, come on. How about I help you out?” Shutting the door behind him, Snake ambled over to Kaz and sat perched on the corner of his desk, scooting a stack of papers to the side. “No sense in going at it alone.”

Kaz wearily peered up at Snake. “What, you’re gonna fix these numbers for me?”

“That’s not what I meant.” Snake flashed a sly grin and placed a hand on the back of Kaz’s neck. “You know accounting isn’t my thing.”

Despite the warmth of Snake’s fingers against his skin, Kaz shivered. “Look, I’m busy right now.”

“So keep working,” Snake said. “Don’t let me distract you.” He slid his fingertips beneath Kaz’s collar, caressing his skin with a rough, calloused touch.

“Boss.…”

“What’s the problem, Kaz?” Snake’s good eye crinkled with amusement, its surface catching the light in little flecks.

“Nothing. It’s fine.” Kaz could feel Snake’s body heat radiating beside him, sending a wave of feverish tension radiating across his back and shoulders. It was impossible to be productive like this, but Kaz wouldn't allow his resolve to crumble. He clicked his pen impatiently and let his gaze travel aimlessly down the rows of numbers.

Snake leaned over Kaz's slumped form, spectating at close range, their faces now only inches apart. “What are you working on?” His lips grazed Kaz’s jaw, giving off a wisp of hot, cloying air with every word.

“Uh.” Kaz shifted as Snake dragged a single finger back and forth across his freshly-buzzed hairline. “These are all of our expenses from the last few months.” Kaz swallowed. The nape of his neck formed a perfect drill team, every hair standing at attention. “But some of the numbers— they're just, uh, not coming out right. Looks like I missed a purchase somewhere.”

“Oh yeah? Guess you'd better find it, then.” Without taking his eyes off Kaz, Snake pointed at a random section of paperwork. “Is it there?”

“Keep looking.”

Snake moved his hand to the expanse of Kaz’s inner thigh and began stroking the starched fabric. “How about here?”

Kaz felt blood rushing into his cheeks—and some rushing elsewhere. “You’re on the right track.”

“Am I, now.” Sensing Kaz’s arousal beneath the folds of his fatigues, Snake hardly needed an answer. He crept his palm up the side of Kaz’s leg and onto his lap, exploring the topology of fabric strained to full prominence.

Still staring straight ahead, not daring to divert his focus from the ledger laid before him, Kaz shuddered.

“This must be it.” Snake pressed his mouth to Kaz’s ear, his whisper as loud as a shout. He rubbed the outline of Kaz’s erection, exerting light pressure and a squeeze with each pass. The clatter of Kaz’s pen against the linoleum floor masked a very faint _oh, fuck_.

“A-almost there, Boss,” Kaz breathed.

Snake withdrew his hand and pulled back. “Not so fast, Kaz.”

Kaz broke concentration and swiveled his office chair ninety degrees, turning to glare at Snake. “Goddammit. Why do you always do this?”

“Do what?” Snake’s raised eyebrows disappeared into the hem of his bandana, forming a perfect picture of feigned innocence.

Kaz said nothing.

“You’re cute when you get mad, you know. Even hidden behind those sunglasses.”

“Oh, save it.” Not wanting to fuel Snake’s amusement, Kaz resisted the urge to sulk further.

“Come on, Kaz, don’t be like that. Look, I’m sorry.” Perched on the edge of Kaz’s desk, Snake fidgeted, a sober expression on his still-tipsy face. He scratched his head, glancing from side to side. “Are you wearing the, uh…?” He trailed off and nodded towards Kaz’s lower half.

Kaz should have responded with some snarky quip— _wouldn’t you like to know_ or maybe _why don’t you find out_ —but the most he could manage was a blush and a “yeah.”

And Kaz was, in fact, wearing lingerie under his uniform. He and Snake made a game of it, a small thrill concealed beneath his olive drab fatigues, both a secret and a challenge. None of the soldiers suspected a thing; nobody would have guessed that MSF's XO was not only a businessman and a casanova, but also a wearer of little lace numbers.

“Is that so?” Snake asked, grinning slyly once again. “I thought you were planning to work all night.”

“Well, I never know when you'll drop in,” Kaz sputtered, “so I'm just, uh, making sure I’m ready.” Through the truth was that Kaz simply felt less alone as he labored well into the night, filing endless quantities of paperwork, with a hidden memento close at hand.

“Ready, huh. For me.”

“Of course, Boss,” Kaz said quietly.

At this cue Snake slid off the desk and dropped to one knee in the typical soldier's repose. Kaz ached with longing, still stimulated by Snake’s earlier advances. The two men briefly locked eyes as Snake peered up from between Kaz’s parted legs.

Snake, always adept in close quarters, unzipped Kaz’s fly in a blur of movement. A hint of black lace revealed itself through the opening. Within moments Snake completely unbuttoned the front of Kaz’s pants, giving way to thin mesh fibers stretched to full capacity, almost too tight under the strain of Kaz’s cock. Bending forward, Snake pressed his lips to the fabric—eliciting a small jolt from Kaz—before razing the fibers with his teeth, placing his sharp canines in dangerous proximity to Kaz's skin. The sheer lace panties tore open, ruined.

“Shit,” Kaz groaned. “You can’t keep doing this. It's like pouring GMP down the drain.”

“I’m sure you’ll find room in the budget.”

“Sometimes I think you enjoy making my life hard.”

“Just a little,” Snake teased. “But that's not all I make hard, is it?”

Kaz couldn't argue. With the lingerie no longer constraining his dick, it was impossible to hide his enthusiasm. He rose from his chair, eager to continue, until Snake placed a hand on each shoulder and pushed Kaz back into a sitting position.

“Did I say to stop working?” Snake asked, his tone straddling the line between a taunt and a command. He rotated Kaz’s chair to face the desk once again.

Kaz prepared to be outraged, but any protests vanished as Snake returned to his knees. He sat upright in his chair—fully hard, panties shredded, pants pulled open—and hoped to God that this wasn’t another fake-out.

Snake crouched, eyes cast downward, and settled comfortably into the empty space between Kaz’s legs. Several seconds passed as Snake sized up the undertaking before him. Not a small task by any means; but no matter how daunting, he was never one to turn down a meal. With typical head-first gusto, Snake leaned forward and took Kaz’s cock into his mouth, receiving its width without hesitation.

Kaz gasped and shot upwards in his seat, posture startled to perfection. Snake responded with a low hum of acknowledgement, evidently pleased with himself, and began massaging the inside of Kaz’s bare thigh with his thumb. Kaz could feel the prickle of Snake’s beard against his skin, soft lips undercut by coarse whiskers, rough even in tenderness. Snake continued methodically, running his tongue on the along the bottom of Kaz’s shaft, his movements long, deliberate, torturously slow. Kaz stifled a moan into the back of his hand.

He barely heard the first knock. But when the impatient visitor began pounding on his office door a second time and with increased intensity, Kaz snapped to attention.

“Mister Miller, sir? Are you in there?” A thin, reedy voice filled the room, partially muffled by the layer of wood between them. The doorknob jiggled slightly.

Kaz panicked. “Yes, but I’m sort of in the middle of something—”

“It won’t take long, I promise!” More jiggling. Kaz noticed, to his horror, that Snake had failed to lock the door. Nothing was stopping their visitor from walking straight in on this little covert operation.

Rather than disengaging, Snake quickly scooted backwards under the desk, pulling Kaz’s chair to cover him as he disappeared into the concavity. From the front, Snake was completely hidden: the desk’s solid oak panel concealed everything below Kaz’s chest. Kaz frantically thumbed through a stack of papers in an attempt to look busy, but realized too late that his pen was still lying on the floor.

The door opened. It was one of the new recruits, codenamed Meerkat—a feeble, nervous soldier who hardly seemed suited for the rigors of fieldwork but insisted on signing up nonetheless. MSF wasn’t in a position to turn down volunteers, no matter how pathetic, so they gave him a gun, a uniform, and assigned him to the cleaning crew.

“Sorry to trouble you. Is now a good time to talk?”

“Not really.” Kaz could feel Snake’s presence in the cramped area below the desk, sitting back on his haunches atop Kaz’s feet. Snake waited, motionless, his lips frozen against Kaz’s skin but momentarily at rest.

“It’ll only take a minute, I promise!” Meerkat lingered at the doorway, wringing his hands together.

Kaz weighed his options. It was probably faster just to entertain Meerkat’s request than to convince him to leave. He sighed. “Fine. What is it?”

“Well… it’s about work assignments.”

“Okay.”

“I was in the mess hall the other day, talking to the head cook—Hammerhead, right? Big guy, I think he has a tattoo of an anchor on his bicep, like something out of a cartoon—anyway, we were discussing the meal schedule…”

_Jesus._  Kaz slumped back into his chair and tuned out Meerkat’s pointless rambling. He silently seethed in the humid room, awfully hot and quite bothered.

Snake sensed this tension and, always wanting to keep his XO happy, furtively resumed sucking Kaz’s dick with renewed determination.

Kaz choked back a yelp. He smacked Snake’s shoulder beneath the desk, but Snake doubled down and continued with conviction. Even a broad-shouldered man like Snake was surprisingly flexible in the tiny space, roughly the size of a typical cardboard box.

Meerkat droned on, oblivious. “I don’t want to imply that the food is _bad,_  of course, I mean no offense, but it could certainly be better…”

It took every ounce of Kaz’s willpower to maintain a neutral expression as Snake continued, trailing his mouth in long, heavy strokes. Kaz gripped the sides of his chair, fingers digging into the plush armrests, and nodded absently.

“...so would that be okay?” Meerkat looked at Kaz expectantly.

Kaz tensed, sweat visibly beading on his forehead. “Would what be okay?”

“Can I be reassigned to kitchen duty?”

“Sure. Fine.”

“Great! Thank you, sir.” Meerkat turned to leave, but changed his mind at the last second. “Oh, I almost forgot—have you seen Big Boss recently? Some of the men were asking for him.”

Kaz felt lightheaded. “Nope. Haven’t seen him.”

“That’s a shame. Apparently he promised another round of drinks if anyone could beat him in an arm wrestling contest.”

Snake shook his head slightly, as if to say _they don’t have a chance in hell._  The small motion delivered a wave of urgency through Kaz’s hips.

“Anyway,” Meerkat continued, “I’ll let you get back to business. See you later!”

“Please, close the door on your way out,” Kaz begged, the pitch of his voice steadily rising.

“Sure thing!”

The door swung shut, falling into place with a click, leaving Snake and Kaz alone at last. With the luxury of privacy restored, Snake unleashed his worst forces and pressed his lips to the tip of Kaz’s cock.

No longer forced to restrain his enthusiasm, Kaz moaned and arched in his seat. He grabbed the back of Snake’s head, clasping the tails of his trailing bandana between his fingers. Snake slowed to a delicate rhythm and ran his tongue over Kaz’s skin gingerly, without force, taking his time to savor each stroke.

Kaz had held himself together long enough, but his tipping point finally came forth in a rush of long-delayed gratification. He fell back into his seat and panted raggedly as the room spun around him.

Snake emerged from below and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, grinning.

“You let Meerkat switch work assignments?” Snake asked. “That was pretty nice of you. Next time I need a favor, I’ll make sure to ask you while you’re… busy.”

“Yeah, well.” Kaz struggled to catch his breath. “Better make it good.”

“Don’t I always?” He bent down to pick up the ruined lingerie bunched around Kaz’s waist and stashed the scrap of black lace in his breast pocket. “But I’m sure you have plenty of work to do. I’ll catch you later.”

“Just one more thing, Boss.”

“Yes, Kaz?”

“For fuck’s sake, lock the door next time.”


End file.
